Ayla Artyom (a pseudonym) met her Iraqi husband online while he was studying in Russia. The couple married and officially registered their marriage in both Russia and Iraq. From the moment Ayla decided to marry and move to Iraq, she never imagined that her life there would be so different from what she had expected.
“I had heard about Iraq from women who had married Iraqi men, and I imagined a different life and a new experience,” she told Daraj. “No one warned me about what this step could mean.”
After relocating to Iraq, Ayla gave birth to two children and settled with her husband in one of the country’s southern provinces. She says her relationship with her husband’s family was initially positive, with her mother-in-law helping to care for the children. But marital tensions eventually emerged, leading to the couple’s separation. Ayla managed to take her younger son with her when she returned to Russia, while her older son remained in Iraq with his father and paternal family.
This investigation examines how the breakdown of marriages between foreign women and Iraqi men can evolve into cross-border legal disputes, leaving mothers trapped between residency, custody and travel laws, with no specialized protection system or clear procedures to safeguard their right to maintain access to their children. Drawing on the testimonies of affected women, interviews with legal and human rights experts, and a review of Iraqi legislation, the investigation explores how legal and procedural gaps become obstacles that deepen mothers’ suffering and prolong their separation and custody disputes with their children.
Remote Motherhood
While living legally in Iraq, Ayla never turned to any official authority to try to regain custody of her son after separating from her husband or to secure a formal arrangement that would allow her to stay in contact with him.
“I was a foreigner in a country that wasn’t mine,” she says. “I didn’t know where to go or who I could trust.”
Over time, Ayla says her contact with the son who remained with her husband’s family became increasingly limited. She is now only able to speak with him occasionally and says she no longer knows what his daily life is like or what interests he has developed since communication between them broke down.
Ayla stresses that all official documents confirm her legal relationship with her son and identify her as his mother. Nevertheless, she says she was repeatedly threatened by her husband and people close to him, who warned that she would be deprived of her children and face legal action.
“They tried to portray me as the woman who abandoned her child,” she says, “even though they knew exactly what had happened.”
Under the weight of these threats, Ayla created a Telegram channel where she published what she said were threatening messages, photographs documenting the abuse she had endured, and videos recounting her experience. She later deleted all of the content and shut down the channel after her lawyer advised her to allow legal proceedings and family mediation efforts to move forward without further public escalation.
Ayla says the divorce process was far from easy. Still, she chose to finalize it by mutual consent to expedite the proceedings before leaving Iraq and returning to Russia. She explains that she departed after reaching an agreement with her husband regarding arrangements for their two children. According to her account, she returned to Russia with her younger child, while the older child remained in Iraq with his father under the terms of their agreement at the time.
Mohammed Jumaa, a lawyer who has handled cases involving marriages between Iraqi men and foreign women, explains the challenges to Daraj:
“The problem goes beyond the legal texts themselves; it lies in how they are applied in practice. Even when a foreign wife is not residing in Iraq under her husband’s sponsorship and holds an independent residency permit, she still has to pursue her rights through the Iraqi courts while living in a foreign country where she has neither a home nor a support network.”
He adds: “Filing a claim for child support or custody may require her to remain in Iraq for two to five months. An Iraqi woman can usually stay with her family during that period, but a foreign woman often has nowhere to go.”
Ayla says the agreement was intended to be temporary, with the expectation that a more permanent arrangement would later allow her to maintain her relationship with her son. Instead, she says, communication gradually diminished, prompting her to pursue both legal and family-led efforts to restore her right to contact and visit him.
After returning to Russia, Ayla says she became the target of a campaign on social media accusing her of abandoning one of her children. These allegations took a heavy psychological toll. She says the pressure affected every aspect of her personal life, but insists she never abandoned her son.
“I had no other choice,” she says. “I miss him every day, and he will always be a part of me.”
Today, Ayla lives in Russia with her younger child, where she says she is doing everything she can to provide a stable life. Her greatest hope, however, is to reconnect with her older son.
She recalls that he loved pigeons. Whenever she sees flocks of birds flying over her city, she says she is reminded of him and misses him even more.
“I remember him,” she says, before falling silent for a moment, as though trying to catch her breath before speaking about him again.
Daraj contacted Ayla’s former husband for his account of the legal custody dispute, but had not received a response by the time this investigation was published.
A Mother’s Plea to Reunite with Her Children
In 2013, Olga, a 16-year-old Ukrainian girl, dreamed of a quiet life. That year, she met Abdulrahman, an Iraqi medical student studying in the same city, through VKontakte, a Russian social networking platform. Their relationship quickly grew into a serious commitment.
A few years later, they welcomed their first child, and life seemed to offer them a new beginning as a family. Olga moved to Iraq with her husband and their son, and the family settled in the southern city of Nasiriyah.
Olga says she gave little thought to the decision to relocate, imagining that she would find “a stable family life.” Instead, she says, the reality was entirely different.
She recalls living in a household of more than twenty people and feeling rejected and marginalized from the outset. She says she was repeatedly referred to as “the Christian” in a manner she found degrading. According to her account, her husband became physically abusive whenever she asked to return to Ukraine.
A few months later, Olga says, her husband traveled to Ukraine to complete immigration procedures, leaving her behind in Iraq while she was pregnant with their second child. She says this prompted her to leave the family home and seek refuge at the Ukrainian Embassy in Baghdad after her sister-in-law allegedly hid her child’s travel documents.
Mohammed Jumaa, a lawyer who handles cases involving marriages between Iraqi men and foreign women, says the issue is “extremely complex and has many dimensions that remain largely unknown.”
He explains that some foreign wives enter Iraq under the sponsorship of their Iraqi husbands and are subsequently unable to leave the country without their husbands’ consent. “Legally, they are treated almost like minors,” he says, despite being fully competent adults. He adds that husbands frequently confiscate their wives’ passports.
Olga says she stayed at the Ukrainian Embassy for approximately two months until she was able to obtain replacement travel documents for her eldest child. She then left Iraq with him while still pregnant and returned to Ukraine, where she later gave birth to her second child. For the first several years after leaving Iraq, both children lived with her there.
According to Olga, her husband sent intermittent financial support during that period. Some time later, he visited Ukraine to see their younger son. She says that after the visit, however, he left the country with their older son and took him back to Iraq without her consent, an act she describes as “the unlawful cross-border removal of a child.”
Olga says she later returned to Iraq with her younger son in the hope of recovering her eldest child and reuniting the family, but those efforts ultimately failed.
She adds that she was eventually unable to leave Iraq with her younger son as well. She returned to Ukraine alone, while both children remained in Iraq. Since then, she has been engaged in a legal battle to restore her right to communicate with and see her sons.
In a written response to Daraj, Major General Hussein Kadhim Al Yasiri, Director of the Directorate of Residency Affairs, explained that the travel of an Iraqi child outside the country is governed by Iraq’s rules on compulsory guardianship, personal status law, and passport legislation. He stressed that a mother’s foreign nationality has no bearing on the child’s Iraqi citizenship or the legal provisions that apply to them. An Iraqi child is treated as an Iraqi minor subject to compulsory guardianship.
Olga says she never stopped trying to regain her children. However, she alleges that the abuse continued after she returned to Iraq. She adds that her husband was later imprisoned for one year and that, during his incarceration, she remained under the supervision of his family, where she says she was subjected to bullying and provided only a small allowance that was insufficient to cover her basic needs.
Despite being separated from her children, Olga says her love for them has never diminished. For five years, she says, she was only able to see them through video calls arranged by their father. She also says she sent between $500 and $1,000 each month to contribute to their expenses, but has no way of knowing how the money was spent. She says she has kept all of the transfer receipts.
Olga told Daraj that she has retained teams of lawyers in both Ukraine and Denmark to pursue the case. According to them, her eldest son’s transfer to Iraq was unlawful and carried out without her consent. She adds that the Ukrainian Embassy was seeking an Iraqi lawyer to pursue the legal proceedings.
Appealing directly to the authorities, Olga says:
“Bring my children back to me. It is cruel to tear children away from their mother by force. I only want to live with them and be able to raise them.”
Al Yasiri further explained that while Article 57 of Iraq’s Personal Status Law grants mothers custody rights, it does not give them the authority to take a child in their custody out of Iraq on their own, as international travel falls within the powers of the child’s legal guardian.
He noted, however, that if a father refuses to grant permission and the travel is necessary, for medical treatment, education, or a temporary visit, the mother may petition the Personal Status Court for judicial authorization to travel with the child. The court will decide the request based on the child’s best interests. It may require documentation establishing the purpose of the trip, as well as a financial guarantee ensuring the child’s return to Iraq within the specified period.
Daraj contacted Olga’s husband to obtain his response to the allegations she made, but he had not replied to requests for comment by the time this investigation was published.
“All I Want Is My Children”
“I never asked for money or financial rights. All I want is to see my children and not be separated from them.”
With these words, Gulnar, a 34-year-old Syrian woman (a pseudonym), sums up her ordeal after spending more than a decade in Iraq, only to find herself separated from her two children. Today, she fears being deported or permanently prevented from seeing them.
Gulnar told Daraj that she married her Iraqi husband in 2014 after the two met in Syria, where he had been her neighbor. Their marriage was registered at the Sharia Court in Damascus, authenticated by the Syrian Ministry of Foreign Affairs and the Iraqi Consulate, and later recognized by the Iraqi courts.
She says the first year of marriage was relatively stable, but problems began to emerge after the birth of their first child in 2016. According to Gulnar, the conflicts stemmed from her husband’s multiple relationships and other behaviors that undermined their family life.
She explains that the disputes reached their peak in 2023. Despite repeated attempts to save the marriage and change the aspects of herself that her husband criticized, she says she was never able to achieve real stability. Although her husband has not formally divorced her, she eventually left the family home as the conflicts intensified, while their two children, now aged ten and nine, remained with their father.
Gulnar says that what pains her most is not the loss of her home or possessions, but the separation from her children. At the same time, she faces complex legal and financial circumstances that prevent her from taking them with her. Living far from her home country, she currently resides in Baghdad with her mother and stepfather.
She also describes the legal challenges she has faced regarding residency and nationality. Despite living in Baghdad since 2014 and giving birth to two Iraqi children, she has not yet obtained Iraqi citizenship. She says her husband did not complete the procedures to legalize her residency until 2025, preventing her from meeting the requirements to apply for citizenship during the preceding years.
Wael Al Bayati, a professor of constitutional law, says the problem extends beyond the administrative procedures governing residency and international travel. It also lies in the legislative framework regulating family matters and the protection of women.
He explains that amending Article 41 of the Iraqi Penal Code, which permits what the law describes as “discipline,” would require a bill introduced either by the Council of Ministers, the President of the Republic, or at least ten members of Parliament. He notes that there is no consensus among legal scholars on the meaning of “discipline.” Some interpret it as referring only to non-violent measures, such as temporary separation or abstaining from marital relations, rather than physical or verbal abuse.
Gulnar says her only demand today is to secure her right to see her children and not be deprived of them. She insists that she is not seeking financial compensation or any other material benefit. More than anything, she fears being forced to leave Iraq or being permanently prevented from communicating with her children in the future.
The Stories Behind the Numbers
The experiences of Ayla, Olga, and Gulnar are not isolated or exceptional cases. Rather, they reflect a broader reality that remains hidden behind official statistics.
Mustafa Saadoun, head of the Iraqi Observatory for Human Rights, told Daraj that 36,289 cases of domestic violence were officially recorded by the relevant authorities in 2025. While alarming, he says, these figures do not capture the true scale of the problem. Instead, they represent only those cases in which survivors were able to break their silence and reach police stations or judicial authorities to file formal complaints.
“What does not appear in the statistics is far greater,” Saadoun says, noting that field data and human rights indicators point to a much larger number of victims who endure abuse without any official documentation or intervention. As a result, the published figures represent only a fraction of a far more complex and widespread reality.
These stories reveal that cross-border marriages involve far more than differences in language and culture. They can place women within a complex legal and social system where issues of child custody, nationality, residency, and domestic violence become deeply intertwined. At the center of this debate are controversial legal provisions, particularly Article 41 of the Iraqi Penal Code, which remains a focal point in discussions over the protection of women and children in Iraq.
In the absence of a dedicated law addressing domestic violence, and with political disagreements continuing to stall legal reforms, many women remain trapped between the promise of a happy beginning and a reality that offers little more than another battle—this time to regain their children or simply secure the right to see them.
Women’s rights activist Ruaa Khalaf argues that the experiences of foreign women caught between family disputes and residency complications are not isolated incidents. Rather, they reflect broader gaps in Iraq’s legal framework for protecting women from violence.
Khalaf told Daraj that Article 41 of the Iraqi Penal Code has long been one of the central demands of the country’s women’s rights movement because it permits certain forms of “discipline” under the doctrine of the lawful exercise of a right, language that human rights organizations argue can be used to justify violence within the family.
She explains that between 2015 and 2023, feminist advocacy in Iraq focused on two primary objectives: passing a law to combat domestic violence and repealing Article 41 of the Penal Code. According to Khalaf, however, these efforts failed to produce legislative change because of the absence of political consensus.
She adds that these demands were not limited to domestic advocacy campaigns. They were also included in Iraq’s reports to the Committee on the Elimination of Discrimination against Women (CEDAW), which has repeatedly recommended that Iraq review legal provisions that could be interpreted as legitimizing violence against women and children.
Khalaf argues that the continued absence of a dedicated domestic violence law, combined with the retention of Article 41 in its current form, leaves many women, including foreign wives, within a legal system that fails to provide adequate protection when family disputes escalate into conflicts that threaten their safety or their relationship with their children.
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An Uphill Battle for Rights
Mohammed Jumaa, a lawyer who handles cases involving marriages between Iraqi men and foreign women, says the issue is “extremely complex and has many dimensions that remain largely unknown.”
He points to the example of foreign wives who enter Iraq under the sponsorship of their Iraqi husbands. In such cases, they may later be unable to leave the country without their husbands’ consent, effectively placing them in a legal position that resembles that of “minors,” as he describes it, despite being fully competent adults. He adds that husbands frequently confiscate their wives’ passports.
Jumaa explains the broader challenge to Daraj:
“The problem goes beyond the legal texts themselves; it lies in the practical reality. Even when a foreign wife is not sponsored by her husband and holds an independent residency permit, she still has to pursue her rights before Iraqi courts while living in a foreign country where she has neither a home nor a support network.”
He adds:
“A claim for child support or custody may require her to remain in Iraq for two to five months. An Iraqi woman can return to her family’s home during that period, but a foreign woman often has nowhere to stay.”
Jumaa says that some foreign wives travel back to Iraq from their home countries specifically to pursue their legal claims before Iraqi courts. However, many are unable to remain for more than a month because of the cost of living and the difficulty of securing accommodation.
“That is where the system breaks down,” he says. “The law allows them to file a case, but it does not provide them with the means to protect themselves. What is the value of a law that punishes the perpetrator if the victim cannot afford to stay long enough to pursue her complaint or is deported because of incomplete residency documents?”
Jumaa also highlights the difficulties surrounding the international travel of children. If a foreign wife wishes to leave Iraq with her minor children, who hold Iraqi nationality, they cannot travel without the father’s consent. At the same time, the mother herself may be unable to leave Iraq if she entered the country under her husband’s sponsorship.
“The law is strict on this point,” Jumaa explains. “No Iraqi child may leave the country without the father’s signed consent, regardless of whether the parents are still married or have separated.”
As for acquiring Iraqi citizenship, Jumaa explains that children automatically obtain Iraqi nationality if either parent is Iraqi, once the parents submit the marriage certificate and the child’s birth certificate. If the birth certificate was issued outside Iraq, it must be authenticated by the Ministry of Foreign Affairs and the Iraqi Embassy before the child can be registered in the civil registry.
“The paperwork is not the real problem,” Jumaa says. “The problem is the reality these children face, growing up between more than one country and more than one legal system.”
The Foreigners’ Residence Law governs Residency
Major General Hussein Kadhim Al Yasiri, Director of the Directorate of Residency Affairs, explained that the residency status of a foreign woman married to an Iraqi citizen is governed by Foreigners’ Residence Law No. 76 of 2017.
He noted that Article 21(4) of the law regulates the residency of foreign nationals married to Iraqi citizens and allows them to reside in Iraq for the duration of the marriage.
In a written response to Daraj, Al Yasiri added that the law also addresses the legal status of a foreign wife after the marriage ends. Under Article 9(3), a foreign woman whose Iraqi husband dies or divorces her may retain a lawful residency status in accordance with the provisions of the law.
He confirmed that, following a divorce, the husband has the right to withdraw his sponsorship of his foreign wife. However, this does not mean she must leave Iraq immediately. She remains entitled to stay in the country under the provisions of Article 9(3) of the Foreigners’ Residence Law.
Regarding deportation, Al Yasiri explained that Article 34 grants any foreign national issued a deportation or removal order the right to request a grace period of up to 60 days to settle their affairs in Iraq, provided an Iraqi guarantor sponsors them. This period may be extended by the Director General, or an authorized representative, for one additional period of up to 60 days.
Asked about cases in which foreign wives leave Iraq after their residency expires following marital disputes, Al Yasiri said the Directorate has recorded such cases through applications for voluntary departure. However, he noted that no precise statistics exist because the Directorate’s records do not specify the reasons why foreign nationals leave the country.
Regarding situations in which husbands retain their foreign wives’ passports or official documents, Al Yasiri explained that the husband is considered, under Iraqi law, the primary sponsor for residency purposes. As long as the marriage remains legally valid, the Directorate has no authority to compel him to return her passport.
Regarding cooperation with other authorities in cases involving allegations of domestic violence or the withholding of official documents, Al Yasiri said that the Directorate of Residency Affairs deals with foreign visitors and residents strictly within the framework of Foreigners’ Residence Law No. 76 of 2017 and the powers assigned to it under that law.
Asked whether there are any directives or proposals to address the situation of foreign wives who lose their residency status because of family disputes, Al Yasiri said the Directorate simply applies the laws currently in force. He cited Article 20 of the Foreigners’ Residence Law, which sets out the procedures to be followed when a passport, travel document, or residency card is lost.
Under the provision, a foreign national must notify the residency officer within three days of the loss and publish a notice at their own expense in two local newspapers. Fifteen days after publication, a replacement residency document may be issued. The individual also receives an official letter, sent through the Iraqi Ministry of Foreign Affairs to their country’s embassy, confirming their residency details. Once a new passport has been issued, the remaining period of legal residency may be endorsed onto it. The same procedures apply when documents are damaged, except that publication in local newspapers is not required.
Al Yasiri reiterated that the rules on compulsory guardianship govern an Iraqi child’s travel outside the country, as well as Iraq’s Personal Status Law and the Passport Law. He emphasized that a mother’s foreign nationality does not affect either the child’s Iraqi citizenship or the legal provisions applicable to them. An Iraqi child is treated as an Iraqi minor subject to compulsory guardianship.
He explained that Iraqi law requires the father’s consent, in his capacity as the child’s legal guardian, before a minor may travel abroad—even if the mother is a foreign national holding a passport from another country.
This requirement is based on Article 102 of the amended Personal Status Law No. 188 of 1959, which provides that the legal guardian of a minor is, in order of priority, the father, then the paternal grandfather, and finally the court or a guardian appointed by the court. That guardianship includes the authority to approve a child’s travel outside Iraq.
Al Yasiri also pointed to Passport Law No. 32 of 2015, particularly Article 3(2), which requires the presence of the child’s legal guardian or custodian, or the submission of formal written authorization, either through a special power of attorney or an official travel authorization, to issue a passport for a minor or permit the child to leave Iraq through border crossings or airports.
Accordingly, whether the mother is Iraqi or foreign, she cannot take an Iraqi child out of the country without the consent of the father or legal guardian, or pursuant to an enforceable court order.
Al Yasiri added that cases involving parental separation or ongoing custody and visitation proceedings are handled through judicial procedures designed to protect the child’s best interests and prevent any unlawful removal of the child from Iraq.
He further explained that although Article 57 of the Personal Status Law grants mothers custody rights, it does not authorize them to travel abroad alone with a child in their custody, since international travel falls within the legal guardian’s authority.
However, if the father refuses to give consent and the proposed travel is necessary, for medical treatment, education, or a temporary visit, the mother may petition the Personal Status Court for judicial authorization to travel with the child. The court will decide the request according to the child’s best interests. It may require documentation establishing the reason for travel, as well as a financial guarantee ensuring the child’s return to Iraq by the specified date.
Al Yasiri also noted that either parent may apply for an urgent court order prohibiting a child’s travel if they fear the child may be taken out of Iraq in a way that would infringe upon their legal rights. Once issued, the order is circulated to border authorities and airport officials and remains in effect until the underlying legal dispute is resolved.
Finally, Al Yasiri emphasized that an Iraqi child may travel through Iraqi border crossings with their mother only if one of three legal requirements is met:
The father appears in person before the passport officer and gives his consent to the child’s travel;
The mother presents a special power of attorney, issued by a notary public, explicitly authorizing her to travel with the child; or
She presents an enforceable court order authorizing the child’s travel, issued by the Personal Status Court in cases where the father withholds consent or a legal dispute exists.
Article 41: A Legal Shield for Domestic Violence?
The experiences of Ayla, Olga, and Gulnar are not isolated or exceptional. Rather, they reflect a broader reality that is also evident in Iraq’s official statistics.
Mustafa Saadoun, head of the Iraqi Observatory for Human Rights, told Daraj that 36,289 cases of domestic violence were officially recorded by the relevant authorities in 2025. While alarming, he said, these figures do not reflect the true scale of the problem. Instead, they represent only those cases in which survivors were able to break their silence and report the abuse to police stations or judicial authorities.
“What does not appear in the statistics is far greater,” Saadoun said, noting that field observations and human rights indicators point to a much larger number of victims who experience abuse without any official documentation or intervention. As a result, the published figures represent only a fraction of a far more complex and serious reality.
Saadoun explained that the 36,289 officially recorded cases in 2025 were broken down as follows:
19,587 cases of violence committed by husbands against their wives;
5,918 cases committed by wives against their husbands;
3,112 cases of abuse by children against their fathers or mothers;
531 cases involving daughters abusing their parents;
1,583 cases of violence by brothers against their sisters;
725 cases by sisters against their brothers;
1,282 cases of abuse by fathers against their children;
559 cases by mothers against their children; and
2,992 other forms of domestic violence.
Together, these categories accounted for a total of 36,289 officially reported cases of domestic violence during 2025.
Saadoun noted that the Iraqi Ministry of Interior had previously announced the registration of around 14,000 domestic violence lawsuits during 2024, while the Iraqi Observatory for Human Rights reported 36,289 domestic violence cases in 2025.
He cautioned, however, that these figures cannot be used on their own to calculate the rate of increase between the two years. The Ministry of Interior reported the 2024 figure as the number of lawsuits, whereas the 2025 figure published by the Observatory refers to cases. The difference may reflect variations in the reporting authority, classification methods, and statistical methodology, making any direct comparison unreliable without first standardizing the data.
Saadoun added:
“Every number in these statistics conceals a painful human story: a woman afraid to return home, a child living in constant fear, or an elderly person who no longer feels safe within their own family.”
He said the greatest concern lies with victims who never report abuse because they fear homelessness, social stigma, or losing their source of income.
According to Saadoun, the gap between official statistics and the reality on the ground is driven by what he describes as “social and economic terror”—pressures that prevent many survivors from reporting abuse. He also pointed to the severe shortage of government-run safe shelters, which often forces victims to return to their abusers under pressure from their families or tribal communities.
He further noted that the absence of up-to-date official data on the number and capacity of government shelters hampers both protection efforts and monitoring, leaving many victims facing an uncertain future with little guarantee of safety.
Saadoun called for the swift passage of a domestic violence law, free from political deadlock. He also urged amendments to the Penal Code, including the repeal of Article 41 and any other provisions that, in his view, legitimize violence. In addition, he called for expanding the network of government shelters across all provinces, providing victims with free psychological and legal support, and launching public awareness campaigns to promote a culture of protection and dignity within the family.
Separately, the Iraqi Ministry of Interior announced that it recorded approximately 7,000 domestic violence cases during the first quarter of the current year.
A Feminist Campaign Against “Discipline”
Women’s rights activist Ruaa Khalaf argues that the experiences of foreign women who find themselves trapped between family disputes and residency complications are not isolated incidents. Rather, she says, they expose broader gaps in Iraq’s legal framework for protecting women from violence.
Khalaf told Daraj that Article 41 of the Iraqi Penal Code has, for years, been one of the principal demands of Iraq’s women’s rights movement. The provision permits certain forms of “discipline” under the doctrine of the lawful exercise of a right, a provision that human rights organizations argue can be used to justify violence within the family.
She explained that between 2015 and 2023, feminist advocacy in Iraq centered on two key demands: the enactment of a domestic violence law and the repeal of Article 41 of the Penal Code. According to Khalaf, however, these efforts failed to produce legislative change because of the lack of political consensus.
She added that these demands extended beyond domestic advocacy campaigns. They were also included in Iraq’s reports to the Committee on the Elimination of Discrimination against Women (CEDAW), which has repeatedly urged Iraq to review legal provisions that could be interpreted as legitimizing violence against women and children.
Khalaf believes that the continued absence of a dedicated domestic violence law, together with the retention of Article 41 in its current form, leaves many women—including foreign wives—within a legal system that fails to provide adequate protection when family disputes escalate into conflicts affecting their safety or their relationship with their children.
Legal Reform Meets Political Resistance
Wael Al Bayati, a professor of constitutional law, argues that the problem extends beyond administrative procedures governing residency and travel. It also lies in the broader legislative framework regulating family law and the protection of women.
Speaking to Daraj, Al Bayati described Article 41 of the Penal Code as one of Iraq’s most controversial legal provisions because it considers certain acts lawful when carried out under the doctrine of the lawful exercise of a right. Among those acts is the “disciplining of a wife” in accordance with custom and Islamic law. Many legal experts, he says, believe the provision is no longer compatible with Iraq’s constitutional principles or with the country’s international commitments to protect women’s rights.
Al Bayati explained that amending the article would require a draft law introduced by either the Council of Ministers, the President of the Republic, or at least ten members of Parliament.
He added that there is no single legal interpretation of the concept of “discipline.” Some jurists interpret it as referring only to non-violent measures, such as temporary separation or abstaining from marital relations, without resorting to physical or verbal abuse.
According to Al Bayati, this diversity of legal opinion creates room to amend the provision in a manner consistent with both the Iraqi Constitution and the country’s international obligations, without necessarily conflicting with Islamic law.
Nevertheless, he believes the prospects for such reform remain limited under Iraq’s current political landscape. He notes that the majority of political forces represented in Parliament have shown little enthusiasm for amending laws relating to women’s rights, leaving both the proposed repeal of Article 41 and the long-awaited domestic violence bill stalled for years.
Between mothers waiting for a phone call from their children, others engaged in lengthy court battles, and many caught between residency regulations and travel restrictions, the stories of Ayla, Olga, and Gulnar ultimately converge on a single point: the struggle for what should be a fundamental right, but too often becomes a prolonged legal battle.
Their experiences show that cross-border marriages involve far more than differences in language and culture. They can place women within a complex legal and social system where issues of child custody, nationality, residency, and domestic violence intersect. At the center of that system remains Article 41 of the Iraqi Penal Code, one of the most contested legal provisions in the ongoing debate over the protection of women and children in Iraq.
In the absence of dedicated domestic violence legislation, and amid continuing political deadlock over legal reform, many women remain trapped between the promise of a happy beginning and a reality that offers little more than another fight to regain their children or simply preserve the right to see them.
Methodology
This investigation is based on interviews with three foreign women married to Iraqi men, a lawyer specializing in cross-border marriage cases, the head of the Iraqi Observatory for Human Rights, a women’s rights activist, and a professor of constitutional law. It also draws on written responses from Iraq’s Directorate of Residency Affairs.
Daraj reviewed marriage and divorce certificates, photographs documenting alleged abuse, and financial transfer receipts. The photographs of the alleged abuse were not published at the request of the women concerned.
Daraj contacted the husbands, or their legal representatives where applicable, but had not received any response by the time of publication. Any facts that could not be independently verified have been attributed to the individuals who made the claims, in accordance with professional journalistic standards and the right of reply.
